James McIntyre

James McIntyre

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James McIntyre (baptised 25 May 1828 – 31 March 1906), called The Cheese Poet, was a poet.
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Windmills And Stone Stables

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Cows suffered in the days of
For want of water and from cold,
Now of good water they have
For it is pumped by the windmill
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Lines Read at a Dairymens Supper

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It almost now seems all in
For to expect high price for grain,
Wheat is grown on Egyptian
On the banks of mighty Nile
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Nova Scotia

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If you are sulky,
Nova Scotia,     We'll gladly let you float away     From out our Confederation;     You sicken us with sily agitation
If any more our patience you do tax     We'll let you go to Halifax
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Prologue

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My friends, we sing Canadian themes,
For in them we proudly glory;
Her lakes, her rivers and her streams,
Worthy of renown in story
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English Poets Shelley

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We have scarcely time to tell thee     Of the strange and gifted Shelley,     Kind hearted man, but ill-fated,     So youthful drowned and cremated
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American Poets Longfellow

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Like fruit that's large and ripe and mellow, Sweet and luscious is Longfellow, Melodious songs he oft did pour, And high was his Excelsior
He shows us in his psalm of life The folly of our selfish strife; With Hiawatha we bewail His suffering...
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Mrs Moody

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When this country it was woody,     Its great champion,
Mrs
Moody,     She showed she had both pluck and push,     In her work, roughing in the bush
For there all alone she will dwell,     At time
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Ode on the Mammoth Cheese

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We have seen the Queen of cheese, Laying quietly at your ease, Gently fanned by evening breeze — Thy fair form no flies dare seize
All gaily dressed soon you'll go To the great Provincial Show, To be admired by many a beau In the city of Toro...
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Lines Read at a Dairymaids Social 1887

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Where the young lady waiters were dressed as dairymaids
Throughout the world they do
The fame of our town Ingersoll,
The capital of dairyland,
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Father Ranney the Cheese Pioneer

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When Father Ranney left the States,
In Canada to try the fates,
He settled down in Dereham,
Then no dairyman lived near him;
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Irish Poets Oliver Goldsmith

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Goldsmith wrote Deserted Village, Now again reduced to tillage; Once happiest village of the plain, Place now you look for it in vain; There but one man he doth make rich, And hundreds struggle in the ditch; "Ill fare the land to many ills a ...
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Ensilage

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The farmers now should all adornA few fields with sweet southern corn,
It is luscious, thick and tall,
The beauty of the fields in fall
For it doth make best ensilage,
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Hints to Cheese Makers

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Addressed to Jonathan Wingle,
Esq
All those who quality do
Must study color, taste and
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Fertile Lands and Mammoth Cheese

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In barren district you may
Small fertile spot doth grow fine wheat,
There you may find the choicest fruits,
And great, round, smooth and solid roots
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Oxford Cheese Ode

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The ancient poets ne'er did
That Canada was land of cream,
They ne'er imagined it could
In this cold land of ice and snow,
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Prophecy of a Ten Ton Cheese

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In presenting this delicate, dainty morsel to the imagination of the people,
I believed that it could be realized
I viewed the machine that turned and raised the mamoth cheese, and saw the powerful machine invented by James Ireland at th...
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